The Savage’s Ace

Incoherently bursting

Drawing the last card from

the ancient deck

Eyeballing the translucent

phantasm glaring at me

Magnetically being pulled

into the ace of the savage

Tiptoeing into the tangled

weeds of the numb circus

Dragged into a technicolor

hellacious sphere

Secret garden weep

Chameleons dressed in

treasured costumes

Branches swaying to the

sound of a smooth saxophone

Wildcats wrestling with

diabolical wisecracks

Rivers of alcohol surrounding

a gust of melancholy mirages

Anacondas smirking

Prancing with the windstorm

Guiding me back into

the ace of the savage

Thrusting forward to see

a shadow of realism

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